


dressing room

by sinead



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-14
Updated: 2009-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 18:52:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinead/pseuds/sinead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dressing room

 

It was always the same, before a show.

"eee, eee, eee, ooo, ooo, ooo, aaa, aaa, aaa." JC was rocking slightly, eyes closed, as he vocalized.

"JC. Man, save some of it for the show." Chris had a foam rubber ball. He leapt around the room, shooting it into the trash can, the open drinks cooler, the gaping cases of make-up and clothing.

"La. La, la, la, la, la, la, la." Chris wandered over to JC, and began bouncing the ball between his shoulder blades in a rhythm with the notes. JC ignored him. Chris began bouncing the ball in double time. JC casually reached back and batted the ball to the far corner of the room.

"Hey!" JC just shook his head, and kept on vocalizing. Chris darted after the ball, but Joey was there first, and had it tucked into his arm. Chris made a grab for the ball, then a mock tackle at Joey's midsection. Joey casually fended Chris off with one hand, and held the ball over his head with the other.

"You need to calm the fuck down, Kirkpatrick," he said comfortably. He didn't mind being the rock that Chris surged against like high tide. Chris needed to work off his pre-show nerves, and he couldn't channel them into obsessive preparation, the way JC did. JC had finished his vocalizing, and was now scuffling and turning and saying,

"one, two, three, turn, change, four, five." He repeated it, a little louder. "That's the new combination at the end of "I Want You Back". Everybody got it?"

"Uh-huh," Joey said. He had no pre-show nerves to speak of, and Chris was now climbing onto his back like a lemur.

"Yes," came Lance's voice, distantly, although he was sitting at the make-up counter in their midst. He was deep into what JC called, "Lance's little sabbatical". You could almost see him retreat into himself, his face growing more and more expressionless. Joey always thought it looked like he was doing higher math problems in his head. Long after they had become friends, he had once asked Lance what he was thinking about in those moments.

"I'm praying," Lance had said.

"What for?"

"That I don't fuck up."

JC evidently didn't find their assurances about the new combination convincing. "Let's run through it now." Joey, looking at Lance's reflection in the mirror, saw him wince. JC could be such a fucking Boy Scout. He tossed the foam rubber ball in the air, and felt Chris slip off his back and lunge for it. Joey opened his arms and swooped down on JC, wrapping him up like a tango dancer and dipping him.

"Dance with me, C. Dance with _meeee_." The last was sung in his most annoying falsetto. JC scowled and smacked his shoulder.

"You're poetry in motion, Fatone." But he was mollified when Joey demonstrated the combination for him. Chris, momentarily bereft of anyone's attention, came over to demonstrate, complete with pirouettes, how he felt the new steps ought to go. Joey left him to JC's mercies and went over to rest a hand on Lance's neck.

"I'm okay." Joey caught the merest flash of green as Lance glanced up at him. He rested his chin lightly on the top of Lance's head, mindful of the artfully rumpled hair, and looked at him in the mirror.

"Absolutely bad-ass, baby," and he held out a fist for Lance to bump. With a grin, Lance did so, and then said,

"Watch the hair, Joey."

"Hair? You call that haystack hair?" Joey ran his fingers through his own thatch, faintly tipped with maroon. "Now this is hair." Lance opened his mouth for a comeback, and at that moment, Jackie stuck her head in the door.

"Half an hour, jellybeans. Time to get into wardrobe. I've got the right trunk out here."

Lance stretched and got up. JC was heading for the door, keyed-up and focused again, the countdown to show time running in his head. Chris turned and said, "hey Joey, you better wake up Justin."

Joey walked back, to the back of the room where there was an old beat up couch turned to face the wall. Justin was slung across the couch, boneless and relaxed, one hand trailing towards the floor. His hair was getting longer again; the dark gold curls fanned back from his temples. There was a faint crease between his straight brows. He turned his face slightly into the couch cushion. His long thigh moved. His hand twitched. He had a little smile on his lips, a smile that Joey had seen last night on the Discovery Channel--on the face of a cougar sprawled on a rocky ledge above a plain full of deer. Joey realized he had been standing and staring for some uncounted seconds. He cleared his throat.

"Just. Hey, J." He leaned down, and put a hand on Justin's bare foot to gently shake it. The heat of Justin's skin was startling. He pulled his hand away.

Justin opened his eyes. For a moment they were clouded, but the smile deepened. The resemblance to the cougar was momentarily even stronger, then he was sitting up and swiping a hand across his face, and saying, "time?"

"Yeah, time." Joey held out a hand to pull Justin to his feet, and watched him stretch unselfconsciously, his t-shirt riding up his sleek golden belly. He followed Justin to the door, watching the swing of his arms and legs, the easy roll of his hips. He could hear, faintly, the rising noise of the fans in their seats, the murmur and the shrill cries. Get ready, all you little deer, he thought. Get ready.


End file.
